How to Adventure After Kids: A Mother’s Journey to Reclaiming the Outdoors
No one thought of me as an outdoorsy mom, especially me—when my kids were young. When my four sons were growing up in Ontario, I was like a mom from the olden days who sent their kids outside so they could get some peace and quiet.
The weekends were time for all of us to be together outside, whether we wanted to or not. We lived on a dead-end street in the small town of Owen Sound, at the crossroads of Grey and Bruce Counties, and all the fun free stuff to do on the weekends was outdoors. I was a single mom of my four boys. We didn’t have any money, and so we went outside because fresh air was free. We walked to Harrison Park together, taking the short cut through the Mill Dam when the salmon were running. We sat cross-legged on the grates as the water flowed beneath us and silently watched the salmon climb the ladders to survive, an impossible and beautiful task to witness every time.
Whenever we had a car, we drove out to chase some waterfalls, just as TLC recommended. We were spoiled for choice. Hiking to Inglis Falls meant grabbing sticks for play swords and pretending to be on a quest à la Lord of the Rings. Other waterfall hikes in the summer meant swimming in the cool water and drying off on big smooth rocks below.
I thought of these weekends outside in the sun or rain or snow or mud as insurance or a checklist. I was giving my kids fulfilling future memories. I was distracting them from our empty bank account. I wanted them to remember long days of swimming at Hibou Conservation Area or watching sunsets at our secret spot on Sauble Beach, sharing orders of salty fries on the way home. Hiking up to Bruce’s Caves and down to the Grotto at Cyprus Lake in the off season when there weren’t too many people; camping at Cape Croker with borrowed tents and old sleeping bags; kayaking in the shallow green water in borrowed kayaks.
I thought this was something I did for them, not for myself. I thought I would be done with adventure when they grew. But now they are grown, and the Great Outdoors is suddenly new to me again.
When my sons left home, I was hobbled by the grief of losing them to adulthood. I marinated in my own pointlessness. All of the fun things we did together were stored away in boxes for me to look and sigh at, and to pat myself on the back for a job well done. And then I went for a walk around Harrison Park. And I kept walking. All the way up to Ingils Falls and around back to the Mill Dam. I did our old route, and I felt a loosening. A recognition of a version of me, alone.
I started to go to visit beaches solo. Sometimes I took my bike, a towel and a juicy book. Sometimes I rode along the sands of Sauble Beach until I was sweaty. I jumped in Lake Huron and cooled off, drying my skin with the sun on my towel. I napped and read, and then rode home, stopping for a brioche cinnamon bun and a coffee at Luscious Bakery before heading to the local vintage shop TenThirtyFive to find a good straw hat.
This is new to me, too: this freedom to stop when I want. To shop and eat and think for myself and myself alone sometimes. I marinate in this newness.
I hiked alone along the Bruce Trail. I trekked the short and the long loop at Spirit Rock. I walked to the Jackson’s Cove Lookout Trail with a sandwich in my bag and cookies I baked myself, not for a child’s lips but to satisfy and delight in my own cravings. I wandered the trail of the Devil’s Monument to see the flowerpot formations.
I re-met my backyard, carrying the spirit of my boys with me. I revisited some of our adventure spots to reminisce and remember. I went to one of our favourite spots, the Outdoor Education Centre just outside of Wiarton, and I asked if they had a summer camp for grown-ups. Every year the Outdoor Education Centre hosts Grade 6 students for three days of play, and I came as a parent volunteer with all of my kids. We played the Survival Game. We made bottle rockets. We learned about the night sky. We slept in bunks. We had bonfires.
This is what I want again. I want to play outside. I want to swim and hike and bike and play outdoor games and even learn archery because why not?
It turns out they have started a summer camp for grown-ups, so I will be going back to the Outdoor Education Centre when they host a weekend retreat this August. I will bring my adult friends and do serious, important things like yoga and meditation. I will consider the planet and aging, and what it all means.
But most of all, I will play like my kids played. I hope every adult there takes it as seriously as a kid takes their play time. Because the kids are gone, but we are not.
We are not finished playing just yet. And now it feels like it’s always the weekend.
I hear you… after my girls left home for a while I didn’t think I’d go camping alone. But then I had to make a trip from Saskatoon to Hamilton and I decided to camp instead of staying in motels. It was wonderful! I dispirited hadn’t forgotten my outdoor skills and was immediately hooked. I’m 68 and still camping but now it’s my dog and me 😎